#i’m clawing at the walls and climbing the ceiling

[mappingthesky]

stfu. r they rly strolling the fucking beach together rn.

[trashmouth-richie]

𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐲 𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐞𝐞 𝐛𝐞𝐥𝐨𝐰

its absolutely miserable here rn but i enjoy writing these little winter stories so have another,

“why? why do we live here?”eddie grumbles, rubbing his red chapped hands together and blowing on them. 

the indiana wind blew hard against the windows, rattling the screen door and creating a draft that seemed to keep the trailer at a crisp 65°.

wool socks and long johns weren’t enough to keep him warm, the thick flannel he’d had since forever was threaded to the very top, his throat tight against the suffocating button. 

“ ‘t’s where the horses died, i guess.” wayne chuckled, cricketing his feet together as he lounged back in his squeaky worn recliner. 

the small space heater glowed angry red, drawing more electricity from the trailer. 

“get that van started up?” wayne asks around the mouth of a pabst. 

eddie flicks his lighter open and shut in a habitual manner, “didn’t want to, but finally gave in,” plopping down next to the heater to warm the apples of his cheeks, he lets out a small sigh of relief from his chattering teeth. 

wayne grunts in approval and they sit in comfortable silence. the howling wind keeping melody with the lonesome whistling of the ceiling vents, the garfield wall clock adding a chimed staccato. 

every business in town was closed. the gas stations, the diner— the weather man called for people to stay home: no travel advised. but healthcare didn’t operate around the weather.

his watch beeped at 9:45PM and he figured the van would be good and warm by now. 

“alright, i’m headin’ out,” he called to wayne as he shoved his arms through the cool leather and begrudgingly shoved a stocking cap on his head. 

wayne gave him a solemn look, “you be damn careful.”

eddie grinned his cheshire pearls, “always.” 

-

the steel door by the back entrance had a small window facing the parking lot. your co workers all had gone once the other shift had shown up to start their nightly duties of rounding on patients and stocking supplies. 

trisha asked if you needed a ride but you waved her off, “he’ll be comin’” 

you worried the snow might have been too deep for his van to handle, maybe it didn’t start at all? maybe the electricity went out in the trailer park?

 the nails on your hand suffered between your teeth as your brain concocted more and more things to worry about. things that could go wrong. 

but not long after a single headlight broke through the tree line and there he was, lining up with the sidewalk as close as he could without actually driving onto it. 

with one deep and ragged warm breath, you braved the weather. the snow scraping against your face in icy claws of unforgiving cold. wind whipping the starchy fabric of your nursing assistant scrubs this way and that. 

the dome light brightens as he climbs out from the van opening your door before you could reach for it yourself. a winced smile on his lips when he sees your chilled face. 

“get in baby,” 

he shuts your door and your fingers begin to thaw against the vents in eddie’s van, the warm comforting smell of rich tobacco and hints of weed engulf your senses. the smell of him singing a song to your soul. 

his door opens and shuts tight and he’s chattering his teeth loudly before grabbing your hands and kissing heat into them. 

“missed you,” he murmurs, “how was work?” 

“long…busy,” a barking cough creeps from your lungs and tightens your chest, “glad it’s over,” you say weakly, reaching for his hand and threading it between yours, “i switched shifts with diane so i have to be back at six.”

eddie’s eyebrows furrow into worry but he hides his concern. that place worked you like a mule, they didn’t care how bad the weather was or if you were sick… and he hated them for it. you looked exhausted, the normal glow to your skin was dusted over with whatever virus you were currently fighting.. but eddie knew there was no use trying to tell you to take it easy for once. 

“alright sweetheart, i can take you, wanna stay at mine tonight or go back to your place?” 

the small home you rented with your childhood best friend jonathan and his girlfriend, leah was on the outskirts of hawkins. and since your landlord was jonathan’s mom the rent was dirt ass cheap. the hopper’s residing in a desolate cabin owned by the chief. 

winter was rough this year and between eddie’s long hours at the factory that  didn’t seem to slow down, and your irregular shifts at the nursing home, you didn’t get to see much of your boyfriend, “stay with me?” 

-

the tv was blue when your key finally busted through the locks and you wedged your way inside. leah and jonathan both asleep, curled into one another on the oversized couch. 

tracking snow in, you and eddie toe off your shoes gingerly trying to avoid the unwelcome surprise of wet snow on your socks.

“i fucking hate snow,” eddie mutters hanging up both of your coats. 

“oh cmon, mr grinch, “ you tease with a small smile after hacking up another cough, “you don’t like how pretty it makes everything look?” 

“hard to look cool in this damn thing,” he says tossing the black stocking cap onto your counter, his hair a mess of kinky curls, frizzing into oblivion. 

“well,” you say, running your hands up his chest and around his neck, “i think you look cute.” 

eddie rolls his eyes and you scoff before he dives into your lips and kisses you loud and obnoxious. erupting giggles from you as his icy hands work themselves beneath the hem of your shirt. 

the laughing as your cough acting up again and eddie places a palm to your forehead worry etched into his eyes, you look back at him, “would the heat miser like a hot toddy?” 

eddie rubs his thumb into a circle pattern on your back. fuck he adores you.

“i’ll make ‘em, you go take a hot shower, alright? you feel sick.” 

you roll your eyes, “i’m not sick,” you garble through a coughing fit, “’m just sleepy.” 

“sure, sure, whatever you think.” 

—

when you’re dressed into pajamas and a long robe, eddie is stripped down to his long johns and the band shirt you liked to hold hostage at your house. your room is set up like a picnic, pb&’s and a twinkie to wash down the hot liquor. 

“pretty much a gourmet chef,” eddie says, licking peanut butter from his thumb, “i even ate your crusts for you.”

“my knight in shining armor,” you muse and eddie takes an exaggerated bow.

he sits crossed legged on your bed, “let’s eat i know your hungry,” 

eddie’s idea of a hot toddy is warm tea with double the amount of whiskey. yours he made sweet with some honey but his is kept straight and burning with whiskey. 

a light buzz clouds your head by the time you finish your drink and the exhaustion settles into your bones, the cough loosened a bit with your hot shower but now your sinuses were filled and you were only breathing from your mouth. 

“lay down baby, i’ll be right back.” 

eddie flicks off the light and sets the plate into the sink, jonathan is standing in the kitchen warming a a pot of milk on the stove. 

“that you coughing munson or her?” 

eddie finds the crinkly pack of cigarettes in the pocket of his jacket and pulls one out for himself and jonathan. 

“me? nah, she’s sicker than a dog.” 

jonathan stirs the milk and takes the cigarette from eddie’s offering hand, “leah and i had something like that last week, probably just something going around” 

the two smoke openly in the kitchen, both deciding it’s too cold to go outside. jonathan stirs the hot milk into the waiting mugs with chocolate powder, cigarette and spoon swirling in a dance of smoke and clanking ceramic. 

“there’s some vicks in the bathroom if you need it,” jonathan says, stubbing out his cigarette into the nearest ashtray, balancing the mugs in each fist, “ tell her to take a day off for christ sakes.” 

“yeah that’ll go over well.” 

they both chuckle knowing just how stubborn you are and jonathan disappears into his bedroom. flicking out the lights, eddie follows the hall to your room and sneaks inside, laying down next to your burning up body and sweat slicked forehead. 

he pulls you into him and you groan with the uncomfortable delirium from your fever. 

“eddie?” you whisper into his chest, fisting his shirt into your palms, “it doesn’t snow in arizona.” 

“you’re right princess,” eddie says pressing his lips to your fevered head, “it doesn’t.” 

you snuggle deeper into him, and speak a barely audible “let’s move there.” before you fall into a deep sleep. 

when morning comes and the wind hasn’t died down, you sigh a little relief when his van doesn’t start, and don’t object when eddie hands you the phone so you can call your job and tell them you won’t be making it. 

here is the actual temp from my weather app— 🥲 also tagging @eiightysixbaby bc jonathan’s girlfriend is her, duh.

[swift-creates]

category: Gen

fandom: DC Batfamily

characters and relationships: Jason Todd, Dick Grayson, Bruce Wayne, unnamed evil sorcerer, very minor batfam

warnings: swearing, mention of that time Jason climbed out of his own grave, some gun use

Summary:

@ailesswhumptober Day 9: Hypothermia, heatstroke, “You look pretty pale.” 

Day 26: Electrocution, burning, “This is going to sting.” 

Being a vampire is great. Unless you’re stranded in the middle of the desert.

notes: anyone want more vampire Jason?

Jason grunted as gravity shifted sideways, and he was thrown into the wall of the mad sorcerer’s sanctum. “You trespassed into the wrong domicile, Bat Family,” the magician cackled as Dick flew over Jason’s head and into a bookshelf. “You’re about to see just how powerful I am.” 

“I’ve had enough of this guy,” Dick grumbled, brushing tattered pages off his shoulder. Jason couldn’t help but agree. 

He fired his grappling hook and swung across the almost-vertical hallway to retrieve his pistol from where it was precariously perched on a doorknob. “You’re about to get a faceful of .45 bullets, asshole.” Bracing his feet against the ceiling, he shot at the magician, but he levitated a table to protect himself and telekinetically smacked Jason away with a flick of his hand. He tumbled down the hall, catching glimpses of the others twisting in the air as they fell beside him. 

“Ah, Red Hood. You should not have done that.” He saw the door at the end of the hall open, daylight streaming through and making Jason squeeze his eyes shut. “Get ready, little Bats.

“This is going to sting.”

Then he hit the ground, and everything started to burn. 

His skin was on fire, claws of sunlight digging down through tendons and muscle to rip him apart. The grains of sand on his palms were knives slicing at his charred flesh. He couldn’t breathe. He was fifteen again, choking on soil, climbing out of a grave- No. He was nineteen, and Bruce was calling his name. 

He didn’t even know he was screaming until Dick was crouching over him and cupping Jason’s face in his hands. “Jay! Shhh, shh, I’m here. Just look at me, Little Wing.” Beside him, Bruce spread out his cape, blocking out the blazing light with its shadow. 

“Dick,” he gasped. 

“Yeah?”

“No… That magician- He’s a dick.”

Dick barked a sharp laugh and shook his head. “Yeah, he’ll be fine.”

It took some doing, but Jason fought off the urge to curl up and burrow into his brother’s arms. Now that he was no longer at risk of burning to death and crumbling into ashes, he could peek around the hem of Bruce’s cape and see that they were standing near the top of a sand dune, and on the other side was an endless series of other dunes, not a single tree or oasis in sight. 

“Stuck in the middle of the fucking desert. Just brilliant. How do you suggest we get out of his one, Dickiebird?” He forced his voice to steady and arranged his features into a scowl. 

“We could start by walking,” Tim shot back, ever the know-it-all, then shrugged when Jason gave him a deadpan look. 

“I don’t know. Are you sure you’re okay, little Wing? You look pretty pale.”

“I’m a fucking vampire, Dickie. You might as well say your puppy eyes are blue.”

Dick frowned in that concerned older brother way. “Jay-”

“He’s got a point, Dick.” Tim shrugged.

Bruce produced Jason’s helmet from somewhere, and he slipped it on, instantly grateful for its protection. “We’re not getting anywhere by arguing. Let’s go.”

So they walked. And Jason tried not to feel too homicidal inside his increasingly stuffy helmet and jacket.

[remuslupinbutcooler]

PUPPY LOVE..

The final and last chapter, i will continue writing , hopefully some of you will stay but it’s ok if not !! Maybe i’ll return to the Lost Boys writing fandom !!

* Time skip from the previous chapter since this is the last chapter and i want to give you all a small gift for the love and appreciate *

SMUT WARNING

NSFW

~~~~~~~~

The usual moonlight hit your body perfectly, it’s shadows contouring every inch of you and adding a light glow to your face ; highlighting your lips and making your eyes practically pop out .

“W-woah Doll..” David was the first to notice you. His eyes practically mimicked that of a cartoon character, heart eyes and over dramatic hand movements.

“Oh my.. we’re so lucky omg..please mamas..” Paul’s attention was now grasped from the joint to you. His eyes shinning like a puppy dog ; hopefully and ready to play.

“We are.. you got that right Pauly.” Marko shot up from his slouched position on the couch, his lips glistening with lust and excitement.

“You going anywhere tonight or can we have some time with you?” Dwayne emerged from the shadows, his eyes dancing along your figure . Hands over his chest, torso brought forward while his legs stayed pressed against the cave walls.

You giggled before motioning towards your body and the cloth that fitted tightly around it .

“You think i’d go out dressed like this ? I mean I would!! But maybe i’m just spoiling my boys ?” You playfully rolled your eyes before strutting around the cave , presenting yourself almost to the boys.

Paul followed behind , whining slightly. Even more like a puppy ; just lost and needy now.

“Please please please can i ? oh mamas don’t make me beg..” He trailed behind , his eyes glued to your ass. A primal glint hidden beneath his now golden eyes, his head practically faced the ceiling. He needed you. They all did.

“Pauly you’re really that desperate?” Marko laughed before turning to see his brothers reactions ; Dwayne loomed closer than before , a needy yet dominate glint hung in his eyes meanwhile David was practically clawing at his chair, desperation and lust causing him to whine beneath the weight of your hotness.

Marko was hard, teasing his pack was just his way of trying to distract himself from his urges. He wanted to rip that pretty cloth off and just take you for himself. He never prayed to anyone or anything before until now. He was praying you’d notice him and take his dick first. Just like you’d taken his lips first . He was your first and he intended to be until the end.

You made your way over to Marko, after all he was your fist and you needed him the post. He was softer and less aggressive than the others . You could easily take and handle him , he was the soft blow of sea before the waves and storm. You loved it.

His hands soon grasped at your hips before pulling you onto him. You fit perfectly onto his lap, you giggled. Being able to feel him beneath you, you liked this. Loved it even. It felt good knowing you made them this desperate. It felt even better having them pressed against your perfect little ass.

“Need…need you..” He rolled his hips against you. His head pressed against your neck , small bites and kisses danced their way against it.

“You have me..I’m here..” You kissed his forehead before moving your hand against his now growing erection. “So needy for me Marko..”

“You gonna fuck him in front of us?”

“You gonna touch yourselves if i do?”

“Maybe.. we’ll try not to..”

You giggled at the overall hornies of your boys.

Your hand reached for Marko, grasping at his erection making small pleas and whines escape his now wet lips. You moved at a slow pace, teasing him even more.

Marko whined before pressing his nails into your skin causing the tight perfect cloth on your body to tear and ladder practically revealing your hips which lay covered in bruises from past experiences with your boys. Marko smirked at the sight of your once perfect outfit now being ruined.

You rolled your eyes before climbing on top of him, your breasts pressed perfectly against his chest the friction causing a small whine to run out of your throat and bubble to the surface. You rolled off your panties before pushing Marko in. Causing moans from both of you . Marko threw his head back before biting his lip.

You bounced against him, the sound of skin slapping filling the cave and causing your audience to run their hands against their clothed erections. Markos fingers found the outline of your nipples and slowly moved against , you weren’t wearing a bra. Marko hummed as if to tell you the pace was good . You moaned out for him to carry on playing.

He was close , you’d been teasing him to the point it was almost edging. Marko didn’t last long , which was good unlike David or Dwayne who lasted longest. Sometimes even from nightfall to daylight.

“Mhm..gonna..I’m gonna..” Marko pushed you against him causing a hard moan to escape your now open mouth. “Keep going.fuck..!”

You carried on, your skin hitting his and causing the cave to become louder with the noises from both you and your boys.

“Fuck fuck..i’m-“ You cut him off, pressing your lips against his causing him to moan into your mouth .

His legs shook almost. You fucked good, too good.

You climbed off Marko, planting a small kiss onto his now sweat covered face.

“My turn.” Paul pushed you against a wall , pinning you almost. His tongue pressed against the sweet spots on your neck causing you to push yourself against him. Your body begged for the roughness of Paul. He was big and hit practically every spot . You’d cum within seconds, there was no doubt about it.

“Paul..don’t go easy..”

“Trust me sugar… it’s hard not to especially when you look so good..” His hand glided against your chest . “ Let’s just-“

You gasped at the ripping sound bouncing from the wall into the cave. Your breasts now lay exposed, the cold creasing your skin. Paul laughed before grabbing your thighs , pushing you up . You understood, wrapping your thighs around his hips. His slid himself in.

“Perfect pussy.” He purred before harshly fucking himself into you causing a pleasured mixed with slightly pained noise to erupt. He carried on , fucking you rougher with each thrust. The vibrations practically causing your stomach to fill with the all too familiar feeling of being on the edge of a high. You dug your nails into him, causing him to act faster.

“You close Babygirl? hm? Gonna cum all over daddy’s dick?” You nodded before moaning again. This caused Paul to fasten his pace . Your legs shook, the high filling you slowly, your eyes rolling to the back of your head , throat filling the cave with pretty yet pained moans. Your high caused Paul to reach his own, his hands grabbed at your ass before he fucked you faster. You’d be covered in rock like shaped bruises all along your back tomorrow.

Paul took him self out of you and carried you over to a now jealous David who’s hand lay against his dick. Pulling it , his eyes slammed shut. He was close or atleast it looked like it. You whined , alerting him that you were now there for him.

“You’re doing so well. So so well. Taking us all so well pretty baby. You think you can handle me and Dwayne hmm? “ His hand lifted your face , his voice softer than usual. You nodded before reaching out for him.

He pressed you onto the couch, positioning you into a sloppy like doggy style position. His pushed himself in without warning causing your eyes to fill with slight tears . Dwayne stood before you. Dick in one hand while his other stoked your face.

“ You’re so pretty like this.. think you’d look prettier with me inside too.. come on.. place that pretty little mouth on my dick.” David pressed into you more causing your mouth open perfectly for Dwayne.

Your tongue pressed against the tip of Dwayne’s dick, small moans vibrating against it , you bobbed your head up and down all while David thrusted hungrily into you. Both of the boys praised you , overstimulating your pretty little pussy and causing more moans to fill the cave.

David sped up while Dwayne moaned letting you know he was close.

“Atta girl.. so good for you daddys “

“that’s it.. just like that baby..”

Dwayne shook within you, his cum filling your mouth and sticking to the back of your throat. David however stayed silent, his hips pressed into your ass harshly letting you know he was at his end…

[stabbyfoxandrew]

happy wipwednesday my beloved! I'm so glad I didn't miss it!

as always I wish you a nice week and ask for just a little bit of arson neil 👉👈

mwah!

WIP Wednesday (7/17)  | Arsonist Neil / Firefighter Andrew AU (Part 199)

After a dozen very wrong guesses, 10 finally gives up with a sigh. “I quit.”

“You can’t quit. That would make you a loser,” Andrew tells him as he positions one of his kitchen bar stools by the wall. Because Andrew’s not a quitter. He’s sort of stupid maybe. And a little reckless. But not a quitter.

“Guess I’m a loser then.” 10 admits, making Andrew snort as he climbs up onto the bar stool. Once he’s fully stood up it teeters a bit, threatening to dump him onto the ground. But he claws at the ceiling until it stabilizes.

“Guess you are.” Andrew says, letting out a breath along with the words.

"Why did you pick purple?"

“It’s soothing.” 

“Soothing?”

“Or something like that. My therapist’s office was this color.” Andrew says, before realizing that’s giving something away. He’d walked in one Wednesday to find Betsy had lost her mind and painted one of her walls, transforming it from beige to a striking shade of violet. She’d done the couch side first— Andrew’s side— and said she did it because it was her favorite color and she wanted to look at it all the time.

[ryndicate]

Hoshigaki Kisame x female reader

warnings: none, suggestive, 18+mdni

“You’re not an easy girl to find.”

Your shoulders tense as you rise immediately, pulling your tanto from its hold on your bag on the ground.

“Ooh, scary.”

You maintain eye contact with the hulking intruder warily, before lowering your blade and sitting back down, gaze on the fire. “You know what I do for a living, Hoshigaki. I’m not supposed to be easy to find.”

Kisame grins sharply at you, ducking deeper into the cave you were calling home for the night, the ceiling not quite accomodating enough for his impressive height. “You say that every time, but I always find you. Kinda suck at your job, don’tcha?”

“What do you want?”

“What I always want.” He grins at you easily, relaxed. Sure.

You roll your eyes and ignore him, returning to the task of making your dinner. He watches you in silence, save for the sound of his sword being placed against the stone wall, the sound of his supplies as he unloads, to sit against the wall at a respectable distance.

“We have a job for you,” he eventually speaks. His usually playful air is noticeably muted, prompting you to give him a side eye as you begin eating. When you say nothing, he scratches his head. “It’s a tough mark but we’ll pay well.”

“If by ‘we’ you mean your pretty little friend is waiting for you outside this cave, you know I won’t do business with you,” you remark testily, stabbing at a bristle of meat with a little too much energy.

Kisame barks out a laugh. “Put your claws away kitty, I know better from the last time. My “pretty little friend” is miles from here. I’m talking about the boss.”

“Good,” you grumble lowly, going back to your food.

He slowly approaches your fire the way one would approach a wild animal, only a few feet at a time, watching your response with each move. Samehada remains against the wall, casting a long shadow from the crackling flames.

By the time his leg is brushing against yours seated comfortably at your side, Kisame has regained his cocky attitude and you’ve relaxed considerably.

“So, what d'ya say? Ready to talk?”

He hums deeply as you slowly climb into his lap, his black eyes never leaving your face, turning hungry as you pull your top over your head, revealing your mesh undershirt. His hands find your waist, large and imposing, and you’re reminded of the strength he wields even without his sword. His thumbs slip under, toying at your waistline, polite but deeply impatient as you contemplate his question.

His eyes darken with satisfaction when you finally speak, groaning under his breath as you roll your hips over his groin.

“I say...we have plenty of time to discuss your job, so you better start telling me what it is you want me to do.”

[soaps-mohawk]

I have returned 👹👹👹 (with the courage to let go of anonymity). A lot has happened in life recently, and I stopped reading bc i was in such a depression. For a bit, I’d given up on really anything.

I FLEW through the latest chapters, ate them up and then licked the plate as well. Alot has happened in the story since I last read, and holy SHIT. To say I’ve been climbing the walls is an understatement. I’ve scaled the walls and hung from the ceiling of the little house in my brain several times over, like a damn spider. 👹

Dear reader/OC has been through. So much. 😞 I admire her strength, I adore her will. The Feral 👹 in my head is pleased to see her shirk her softness for claws and teeth. To do what must be done. But I hate that she was pushed so far, far enough to need her claws and teeth to survive.

It’s an interesting feeling, to be in my own slump and processing my own trauma, and then come back to find OC in a similar place. We’re together in that, and the feral creature that prowls my head and heart has wrapped herself around OC in my mind, has chosen to become soft fur and warmth, for her and for me. For now we will rest together.

The relationship between me and OC, in my mind, is similar to a personality split. She isn’t me, but she is part of me. Her experience is my experience. Her pain is mine to hold. The feral thing living in my brain is similar, though we ARE the same. She is me, like the flip side of a coin. I’m not sure how else to explain the feeling.

Anyway, back to the story 💀 I still have a lot of love for Ghost, and feel like his quiet strength would be comforting in this moment. But he could’ve, and should’ve, questioned Price, said something. ANYTHING. Tried to convince him. And yet he didn’t, and look where we are. He didn’t make the call. But he was part of the decision, by not questioning it. And he continues to let OC suffer because he’s still too afraid of himself and his own vulnerability to do what she needs.

I still have a lot of love for ghost, but The Feral in me would bare teeth and growl a warning, from her spot twisted around OC like a living blanket, if he came too close right now.

I can’t wait to see where we go from here, and I continue to deeply adore your writing style. Everything you detail is so enchanting, it feels like truly being able to experience what I read. 🫶🏻

Perhaps the next time I slink in, the feral in me will have more energy to send in an ask with more umph. This ask doesn’t have the same energy the ones before did. Regardless, we felt a check-in was due. 😌👹😌

Apologies, for the super long AMA.

Until next time~

-Your Feral 👹🫶🏻

Don't apologize for the long comment!!! I greatly enjoy reading through everyone's thoughts, short or long!!

Honestly it was probably for the best you didn't read it until now �� I'm so sorry you were going through some depression. That's no fun at all and I hope you're doing at least a little better now 💚

A lot has happened over the last few chapters. Things fell apart and are now starting to be pieced back together bit by bit slowly.

That is an interesting parallel but I'm so glad you can find a little comfort in 'mega's situation and how it mirrors your own. I hope things start to get easier for you like they are for 'mega.

Simon...he's got his own stuff going on. We'll see that here soon in the story as things play out. There's a lot going on for all of them and they all are making bad decisions (except 'mega my baby can do no wrong).

This one feels umphy enough for me!! But if you're up to it then I certainly won't complain about more feral energy. You have plenty of time to build that back up now.

It is good to hear from you again, though!! I'm glad you're alright even if you're not quite alright. You know what I mean. Anyway, it's good to have you back!! 💚💚💚

[written-with-clouds]

Monstober Day 10: Dragon (Yungi)

Day 10/13

Summary: Mingi never expected to fall for a dragon

CW: None

not beta read

Series Masterlist

This was it. Mingi’s last moments of freedom before being sacrificed to the dragon that haunts his town. Clad in his white tunic and brown trousers, he shared tearful goodbyes with his parents before climbing into the rickety old boat that would slowly drift him towards his fate. 

A roar startles Mingi and he jerks, the boat rocking slightly. In the sky, high above him, is a mighty golden dragon. Its large wings cut through the clouds as it descends slowly, making several wide circles. Mingi watches, his heart beating wildly, as the dragon gets closer and closer. The beast's large talons grip either side of the small boat and before Mingi can process how large the dragon is up close, the boat is being lifted from the water. 

Mingi screams, tightly closing his eyes and gripping onto the wooden boat for dear life as he is taken high into the sky. He can feel mist hit his face as they break through the clouds and up this high, it’s a little hard to breathe. Whether from the adrenaline leaving his body, or the lack of oxygen flowing into his lungs, it isn’t long before Mingi’s eyes drift shut and he falls asleep.

Yunho hovers over the ground, gently setting the boat onto the stone before landing himself. His bones crunch and shift as he transforms back to his humanoid form. His new bride is still fast asleep when he turns to look at him and so Yunho scoops him up and carries him to his… no, their bed. He gently sets his bride down and covers him with a blanket of fur for warmth. 

Yunho sits on the edge of the bed, watching his bride snuggle further into the furs, and smiles. He traces the back of his knuckles against his bride’s cheek and jaw bone, noticing a small beauty mark under his eye. His eyes take in the sight of long lashes fanning over sculpted cheeks, a strong nose that leads to plush, pink lips parted slightly in sleep. 

Yunho likes this bride.

Mingi wakes up slowly, his ears picking up little sounds around him before he can will his eyes to open. When he finally manages to peel his eyelids back, he stares up at a stone ceiling. Orange hues dance on the stone as a fire crackles within the fireplace on the opposite wall from Mingi. 

He sits up in the large bed and does a self evaluation. Shirt still on? Check. Pants still on? Also check. Any soreness in places he wouldn’t normally be sore in? No. 

“That’s promising,” Mingi says out loud, to himself. 

The sound of a door opening grabs his attention, his eyes darting to a large wooden door as it slowly opens and reveals… the most beautiful man Mingi has ever seen. Well, man-dragon. The man has short warm golden brown hair that falls into his chocolate colored eyes. Horns in that same golden color sprout from his hairline and curl back. Shimmering golden scales litter his cheeks like clumps of stars. More scales cover his forearms like vambraces, blending into the skin of his hands. His fingertips and claw-like nails are dusted black, as if he had been playing in the soot of the fireplace. 

He’s tall too, taking up most of the doorway with just his body. Mingi can just make out the tops of two wings behind the man-dragon. 

“You’re awake.. how did you sleep?” The man asks, striding into the room and sitting on the edge of the bed. 

“Um.. I slept fine…” Mingi stutters. The man grabs Mingi’s hand, lifting it from where it rests in his lap. He brings the hand up to his lips and places a gentle kiss against Mingi’s knuckles. 

“I’m glad to hear that…” the man smiles brightly. “My name is Yunho… May I have the pleasure of knowing yours?” 

Mingi swallows the lump in his throat. “My n-name is Mingi..” 

“A beautiful name, for a beautiful man.”

Life with Yunho isn’t horrible. In fact, Mingi has never been happier. Yunho charishes him and respects him for who Mingi is. He goes out of his way to get things for Mingi, he makes Mingi’s favorite foods and even takes him flying on dragon back. Flying with Yunho is like nothing Mingi has ever experienced, once he figured out how to adjust his breathing so that he doesn’t pass out again. It’s freeing, to be above the clouds. And on colder nights, when the chill cuts through even the thickest of blankets, Yunho will pull Mingi against his chest and wrap his wings around him. On warmer days, they fly to a breezy field and Mingi reads his favorite books to Yunho as the dragon dozes on Mingi’s lap or runs his hands through the human’s hair.

To say that they had fallen in love was an understatement.

The one and only problem was how isolating it felt. Sure, Mingi had Yunho, but he missed his friends and family. He wished for them to meet Yunho and love him the way he does. When Mingi had first asked to travel back to town, Yunho had said no. Later confessing that he was afraid that Mingi would run. But now, after Mingi had shown Yunho time and time again that he would return to the dragon and proven his deep love for him, Yunho agreed. 

They landed in a meadow on the outskirts of town, Yunho telling Mingi to go on ahead and that he would find him shortly. Mingi smiled at Yunho, his eyes crinkling in the corners, and kissed him goodbye.

The reunion with his parents is tearful.

“I can’t believe it! My boy.. My darling boy is home!” His mother cries against him. Mingi wraps his arms around her, lifting her and spinning her around happily. He sets her down and she cups his face with her hands, “I’m never letting you out of my sight again.”

Mingi’s smile falters slightly, “Ma.. I’m not staying…”

“What do you mean?” She asks, her smiling dropping completely. ‘You can’t seriously be considering going back to the beast.” 

“He isn’t a beast mom… He’s actually really sweet, he cares for me” 

Mingi’s mom shakes her head, “It’s put a spell on you, hasn’t it?” she accuses. 

“No.. he hasn’t. Ma-”

“I won’t hear it, Mingi. You are staying here and we’ll get the spell thing taken care of.”

Two weeks. 

Mingi has been locked in his parents home like a prisoner for two weeks.The window in his bedroom is barred from the outside, courtesy of his father, and his parents alternate sleeping on the couch to prevent him from sneaking out the front door at night. For the first week, his parents call every priest, witch, warlock, and shaman they can to 'cure' him of the spell they believe Yunho placed on him, but after countless 'failed' attempts, his parents resign themselves to 'waiting it out'.

He spends his days pleading with his parents to let him go, that Yunho is a good guy and if only they would meet him they would know that too. Every plea falls on deaf ears and dismissals. His nights are spent staring out the barred window at the night sky, searching for the silhouette of his dragon… of Yunho. If he isn’t watching the sky, he’s crying silent tears until he can’t keep his eyes open for a second longer. 

Mingi dreams of Yunho. Of his smile, his laugh, his eyes. Of their time together and how he’d still be with the dragon if only he hadn’t asked to visit his family. He dreams of a future he’ll likely never know, a future with Yunho.

On the eve of Mingi’s third week trapped, Mingi spots something in the woods. No, not something… Someone. 

Mingi shimmies his window open the little amount it can and calls out. “Yunho! Yunho, I'm here!” His dragon doesn’t respond verbally, but his head snaps in Mingi’s direction and then suddenly, Yunho is running. 

Mingi watches as Yunho rounds the side of his house. Mingi steps out into the living room just as the front door splinters from Yunho kicking it in. He barely registers his mother’s yelling as the rest of the world falls away, leaving just him and Yunho. 

Yunho is panting wildly and his eyes are dark. His body is tense but visibly relaxes when he realizes that Mingi is unharmed. Mingi’s feet are moving on their own, taking long strides towards Yunho. The dragon meets him halfway, wrapping his arms around Mingi protectively. 

“I thought i’d never see you again,” Mingi cries into Yunho’s chest. 

“There isn’t a place on this earth they could hide you that I wouldn’t find,” Yunho says into Mingi’s hair. 

Mingi lifts his head, looking at Yunho, “Take me home, Yunho.”

Series Masterlist

[rocketboots564]

Teen Wolf OC: Enrico’s Dream

Here’s a bit of writing I made for a Teen Wolf OC of mine: Enrico Mahealani, the son of one of Danny’s cousins, who comes to live with him after his father’s death. This takes place after the events of the Teen Wolf Movie, and is part of a sorta fix-it au of mine that I’ve been brainstorming over while watching Teen Wolf for the first time.

For more info on him check out here

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“Life is the art of dying” -Atticus Finch

The dreams started from the moment I moved into Beacon Hills.

It always begins the same way

I open my eyes, standing in the entrance of an old, decrepit house, deep within a forest of some kind. The walls and furniture were grayed and dirtied, covered in dust and mold. It smelled of rot and ash, but more than anything, it had the lingering scent of animal fur and blood. Burn marks decorated nearly everywhere he looked, even parts of the building had caved in or fallen apart, peering out into the forest outside.

“Where am I?” I mutter under my breath, a strange sense of unease and confusion climbing up my spine, snaking its way through my body. The place had been burned down, and ages ago by the looks of it. What little was left standing was covered in soot or marked with claws. Shadows and darkness took shapes in the deepest corners of the many halls and walls of the house, as if someone or something was watching me, an audience of hidden eyes staring upon me like wolves watching their prey. This place was home to tragedy, to souls lost and massacred by hate.

It wasn’t until I started to look around that I heard them… the whispers coming from the stairs. My eyes I darted to the main staircase, tracing up each step as the whispers got louder and louder, as if trying to scrape warn me, clawing their way into my ears and head. At the very top of the stairs, amidst the light of the full moon that blanketed the house, I saw it…

Two bodies, strung together and hung to the ceiling by rope, their feet dangling right above the ground. My heart nearly stopped, my face running cold as I watched them dangle above ground. Their faces were bloodied and scarred, blood dripping from their open wounds. One was a dark-skinned man, his face hung low in an expression of despair. A terrified, betrayed look rung in his dead eyes, as if all he had ever known and loved had turned against him in his final moments. The other was pale, with long, blonde hair that was matted with grime. As if in opposition to the man, her head was held high, angered tears streaming down her face as a fiery and vengeful rage filled her furrowed brow.

Both of them couldn’t have been any older than 17. They were teenagers…kids… just like me.

“Oh my god,” I whispered under a hushed breath, trying to force the terror in my heart back down as I stepped closer. Their gored faces began to twitch and shudder, flickering to life as they shouted in unison, “SAVE THEM! SAVE THE PACK!!”

They screamed in agony, their bodies writhing and jerking around. Their eyes flashed a deep yellow, as their wounds began to loose more and more blood, dripping down the steps of the stairs into a bloody pool at the bottom.

Panic began to set in, my instincts taking over as I ran to the stairs. “Hold on! I’m right here!” I cried out, running up the steps, hoping I could make it. Save them! I have to save them! my thoughts echoed in my mind, each step feeling like a mile, my body moving as if time had slowed to a screeching halt. My hand reached out, my fingers stretching toward them, blood rushing through my veins. Their screams biting into my skull like glass as I winced, my eyes shutting tight from pain.

The next thing I felt was a burning heat.

My eyes blinked open, and the two bodies were gone. The house was now burning, fires feasting away at whatever was left of the house. I gasped, stepping back as the stairs back down crashed in on itself, burning away as hole began to form, leading into a dark, empty abyss. Confusion and fear began to claw at my heart as I stumbled back, the flames spreading across the house at an alarming rate.

I felt a hand on my shoulder, as I turned to face a man. He was tall, towering over me, his piercing gaze staring me down. His mouth bared fangs, his ears long and pointed as his irises of his eyes glowed a bright blue.

“W-Who are y–”

“FIND MY SON… FIND STILES” he interrupted, his voice growling like a beast as the flames began to engulf him, eating and burning away at his flesh. His grip tightened, as he threw me over the edge, my arms reaching out as I fell down into the empty pit below. All I could do was watch, falling endlessly into darkness as he burned alive.

It’s then that I wake up.

My throat gasps for air as I sit in my bed, alone again. No more flames, no more of that house, and no more bodies…

For others, dreams are a natural occurrence. They pass and go without so much as a thought in people’s minds. Some even remark at the absurdity of their dreams, the comical and nonsensical nature of them.

For me, dreams always mean something. They allude to hidden truths, of what has passed, and of what has yet to come. They are puzzles, intricate clues tangled in a web of vague visions that haunt my sleep.

And, most of all, they are gateways of communication, my own personal radio to those beyond the grave, the spirits of the dead.

I don’t know why they keep happening.

Questions racked my mind. What was this “pack” and who were those people? Who is Stiles, and who is that man’s son? My thoughts echoed back to me as they rang in my skull, my gaze drifting to my hands as they clenched tightly.

Something is wrong in Beacon Hills, and I intend to find out why.

(Fin.)

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Taglist:

@fionajames

[akhilaasthana]

Location: Cabin 5023 @selinswonderland

The world was askew, she clawed her way up to standing to find it wasn’t just her head spinning. The floor was on a terrible slant. The sort that should require immediate attention. Akhila stared down at what she’d naturally assumed to be floor, but there was a large porthole window and a deep blue abyss beneath. Akhila felt sure she was going to be sick. Welcome to paradise. She leaned against the wall–ceiling–and briefly assessed plausible reasons for why she was on a ship, and why she was on that was listing, badly.

She surmised that there was none, and that the immediacy of getting off the ship was more important.

Akhila scaled the furniture that was fixed, and thus easier to climb over. Once she’d climbed over the bed, and positioned herself between the desk it was easy to pry the door open. Akhila stared, her triumph ruined by a piece of unaffixed furniture. There was a slim gap to the left, enough for her to slide her hand up but it got stuck on an unfamiliar bracket. She withdrew, her head thrumming, she didn’t have enough in her to assess why she was wearing a hideous bracelet. She pounded against the chipboard furniture. Relenting and shouting. “HELP!”

Nothing – no immediate answer.

Akhila fumbled in her pockets for her phone. She’d scream herself hoarse before anyone found her, if they did. There were no guarantees anyone else was still onboard. No signal, or at least the bars were scrambled. No reason to preserve the battery life then. She recorded herself saying. “I’m in room 5023. I’m trapped. Send help.” Slipping her phone speaker first through the gap to play the snippet louder than she could’ve shouted. 

[hgejfmw-hgejhsf]

Year In Review: Favorite Lines/Snippets!

Hello, my lovelies! Many thanks to @anincompletelist for not only creating this tag game, but for including me in it! I have ALWAYS loved a good quote that can hit someone right in the heart, and this year, I've been incredibly lucky to write a few such segments myself (that hit ME in my own heart!). Words that I stepped back from the keyboard after writing and thought "did I actually write this?"

Additional thanks to @kiwiana-writes and @firenati0n for the tags on their years in review as well!

What If I Do?

“Fuck,” is all that he can say, but even that tastes of Alex, of top shelf whiskey and the cinnamon he always adds to his coffee. Alex had spoken the word into Henry’s mouth on countless occasions, so he was all-too-familiar with the way it slipped off of his tongue so smoothly, as if the letters themselves were forged together just for him by some foul-mouthed god who knew the damage such a word might wreak in the possession of someone as fearless as Alexander Claremont-Diaz.

Gravity

But though fire may burn through carefully worded commands parading as suggestions on a pretty page, it stands no chance against the might of a golden crown. He only wishes he could fan the flames high enough to reach that blessed melting point. Watch it all soften and liquefy until it’s no longer a gilded cage but a puddle at his feet. He thinks, bitterly, that even then he wouldn’t have the time to escape before it would congeal and stiffen and trap him once more, forever frozen as a statue rather than a prisoner. And perhaps they’d prefer it that way. Statues can’t fight back.

The Rope

This is not supposed to be his life. He was always supposed to love Alex from the other side of a wall, never daring to climb over. So instead, he’d punched a hole in that fragile wall under the winter moonlight in the White House Garden, the taste of Alex on his tongue. And again and again he’d punched new holes in the weakening structure, reaching through and grabbing and clawing at whatever pieces of Alex he could grip, knowing that he’d never be able to grasp his heart. Except when, somewhere along the bloody way, he had. But Alex was never supposed to let him.

Ghosts

His first attempts to contact Henry are a flood. Incessant, desperate, confused. All paragraphs and punctuation. And then a storm. Intense in the moment but eventually losing its power. Streams of single sentences sent in quick succession. Then a trickle. Droplets of isolated words over the course of agonizing days. Until finally, they dry up completely, and Henry’s thread of communication falls lower and lower down his inbox. Alex tries not to actively seek it out.

The Maldives

“I love you. I don’t have your extensive vocabulary to say it, but the truth is that I’m absolutely crazy, head-over-heels, desperately in love with you, and I’ve spent so much time not saying it that I want to spend the rest of my life saying it as much as I can. I want to wake up beside you each morning and say it before we start the day. I want to text it to you from across any distance between us, whether it’s an ocean or the couch. I want to gasp it at the ceiling when you do that thing with your tongue. And I want it to be the last thing you hear before you fall asleep each night. I love you, and I want you to hear it so many times that it heals the pain of thinking you’d never hear it in the way you always dreamt.”

You can’t escape this drying ink

He knows, as they approach the door just down the hall from the main ballroom, what awaits him on the other side. He knows it as certainly as he knows what a terrible mistake he made on these very grounds to start the new year. A blank page already gushing bright red ink before he’d ever had the chance to write a single word other than “Alex.” He’d dripped his bleeding pen across the map as he fled, red ink footsteps trailing behind him in the snow, a smear across the map over the 3,700 miles separating them. He’d trailed it from the plane to the car, from the car through the palace, staining the perfect ancient path walked by kings and queens as he retreated back into the cage of his own making, a cage he never should have left, for now he knows what damage he wreaks when he allows his heart to guide him.

Save a horse Alex is a book that Henry has read countless times. He knows the placement of every punctuation mark, from the freckle above his hip to the smallest of scars on his knee, sustained while thoughts of Henry plagued his every waking moment, Alex admitted to him once. He’s familiar with every piece of dialogue from “motherfucker” to “sweetheart” and his personal favorite, “baby.” He’s bookmarked all of his favorite pages and even added his own annotations, like the way Alex always wants to look Henry in the eyes after they make love, regardless of what positions they may have ended up in, or the soft snores that come only when Alex is completely and utterly spent, nothing left to give but the sound of his breathing that never fails in lulling Henry to a deep sleep after him. But in the constant reading of the book of Alex, Henry is never bored. There is always something new to parse from between the lines. Words that aren’t explicitly stated. Details that can only be found by diving deeper than the surface. And Henry is happy to spend the rest of his life sinking to the depths of it, turning the pages again and again.

Heart enough

“Well, normally with a royal guest staying here, I’d roam the halls in a white sheet moaning about taxation without representation, but the joke would be wasted on someone as dull as Henry, so here I am…”

Alex has never seen Henry like this. So raw and vulnerable. Someone who needs. Frankly, he didn’t think it was even possible for a prince as polished as Henry to ever falter. Never thought a spine as rigid and straight could ever hunch, that a heart as walled off and locked away could ever break. How very wrong he was.

The taste of the whiskey from Alex’s flask and the champagne Henry drank earlier in the evening mixes with the rainwater that continues to pelt them from above, falling in their mouths and baptizing their tongues in the memories of this night that Alex knows he will never, could never, forget.

Wind me up, fill your cup like a river, drunk on watching me drown

He’d almost be impressed that a statue sculpted out of unforgiving, unchanging marble could affect anything but a strong-jawed, tight-lipped expression of utter disdain, were it not for that very first meeting of the prince and the president’s son. But nothing Henry could ever hope to do in his meticulously scheduled life of cutting ceremonial ribbons and haunting the corners of ballrooms is capable of wrenching and scraping the clock hands backwards, turning back the years of disappointment Alex has felt for ever pressing his fingers to a photo in a magazine and allowing himself to dream of someone just like him. Someone who understood.

Alex quickly realizes, though, that he’s never stood this close to the prince before. Never made out the freckles hiding beneath the carefully applied makeup. To the dungeons with a blemish on a royal face! Never noticed the halo of hazel around his pupils, a tiny island in eyes as blue as the ocean. He wonders, briefly, if Henry would choose to embrace these perceived imperfections if given the chance. Would the open, grinning young man from the magazine sign his looping script on an agreement of a royal portrait painter dotting a canvas with physical proof of being kissed by the sun, or mix up a bit of color other than the most stunning cerulean for his eyes? Or does he relish in the mask that he wears, locked as perfectly into place as every strand of his golden hair?

The injury of finally knowing you

He listens to the quiet sound of snow drifting to the ground around him and thickening the blanket of white. He listens to the distant thump of music and the explosion of fireworks across the city, of liquor-soaked laughter and raucous cheers. He listens and listens, his ears straining as if some part of him hopes to hear his father’s voice break through the clouds as brightly and certainly as he knows Orion shines somewhere above the earth upon which he stands on trembling limbs. What he doesn’t expect when he listens is the lilt of another voice from behind him, an all-too-familiar sound that never fails to color his dreams in flashes of vivid molten gold, fiery scarlet, and radiant orange, lighting his very imagination aflame. Every word spoken by that voice now grows a fraction louder with each soft, crunching step through the snow.

Unsure who's done this so far, but wanting to throw out some tags for @indestructibleheart @thinkof-england @whimsymanaged @sparklepocalypse @duchessdepolignaca03 @ships-to-sail @magicandarchery @suseagull04 @rockyroadkylers @inexplicablymine @littlemisskittentoes @ssmtskw @affectionatelyrs @lizzie-bennetdarcy @songliili @priincebutt @daisymae-12 @happiness-of-the-pursuit @leaves-of-laurelin @roseharpermaxwell @adreamareads @indomitable-love @cricketnationrise @clottedcreamfudge @ninzied

[trashogram]

HCYverse: Husk

***

The two winged goat butler-things muzzle open the double doors and reveal a sprawling room of contrasting colors. The walls are pastel pink and the windows are framed in candy-apple red, but the ceiling draws the eye with its sky blue and matching images of puffy white clouds.

It’s been so long since he’s seen clouds. Fluffy, white, easygoing… the sight makes Husk’s mouth hang open somewhat as he gets lost in how they roll along the chandelier above.

A gasp, tinny and small yet loud enough in the vastness of this oversized bedroom, barely gives the old cat enough time to collect himself. He sees a blur of red and yellow bounding towards him.

“Keke?!?” The little girl is jumping up and down at his feet, and Husk stares wide-eyed.

(He does not back away a few steps out of surprise, that’s for sure).

The girl’s red eyes are so big. They look too large even as they stare up at him from a head too big for her tiny body. “How’d you get so big?!”

Husk cringes at the feeling of her little hands reaching for him, tiny claws gripping at his suspenders and trying to climb up past the waist to reach his fur. It’s almost instinctive to pick her up and keep her from touching his belly.

This can only be the Princess of Hell. Oh lord, does she ever look like her daddy.

‘Bout as short as the King too.’ Husk wagered internally.

“Where’d you get two eyes from?” She continues. Her hands come up to touch his eyeballs and Husk instantly clasps them in one of his much larger paws.

“These are mine, kid.” He says hastily. “Not for sale.”

“Oh!” The Princess chirps in surprise, likely at hearing the very deep voice coming from the demon who was decidedly not KeKe.

Radio Chuckle-Fuck laughs in that insipid way of his in the doorway, getting his jollies out of Husk’s misfortune no matter how slight.

“This is Husker, my sweet. He’s going to be assisting me as one of your caretakers for the evening!” Alastor embellished with a tap of his radio staff against the floor. The little girl pulls back just enough to look Husk in the face, smiling brightly.

“Hi Husker!” She cheers. “I’m Charlotte. But I like to be called Charlie!”

“Heya kid.” Husk felt awkward, shifting the child up as she starts to slide down from his grip. “Just call me Husk, then.”

Her toothsome grin shouldn’t be adorable, but somehow Charlie manages it. Maybe it’s the bubbliness that makes her so cute. Husk’s fur stands on end from head to toe as Alastor was suddenly right beside them, peering at them as if they were some kind of zoo exhibit.

“My, my. What a charming picture you two make.” The Radio Demon says.

That telltale tone of voice, the kind that speaks of speculating and calculating and plotting, makes Husk clutch little Charlie tighter.

[tickle-bugs]

BUGS YOURE ALIVE!!! Could I bother you for some McKirk? Maybe some bed sharing?? For uh...mission related reasons? Accidental cuddling?? If it's not too much trouble?? Do these emojis help?? 🛏🤣🪶💘

Anything for you beloved!!!!

Suite-Hearts

Bones thinks defecting might genuinely be better than this. 

He’s not twenty anymore, the sight of his best friend shirtless doesn’t fluster him the way it used to, but it’s still…a lot, given the circumstances.

Circumstances being the honeymoon suite in one of the most notorious casinos in the galaxy, a room that couldn’t possibly be big enough for all the feelings that Bones had to fit inside of it.

The room is beautiful, granted—the entire far wall is a floor to ceiling window onto the glittering city lights below. Every inch of the place is plush in a way Bones can appreciate, even if it reminds him vaguely of a padded cell. Stocked mini bar, soundproofing--even a built in white noise stereo. The hotel had been sweet--they’d decorated the place with little hearts and champagne bottles, committed to celebrating the newly engaged couple they’d checked in as. 

But again. The circumstances. 

“Are you gonna glare at me over there all night?” Jim huffs and crosses his legs on the bed. He plays with his hair, still stringy from the shower. 

“I hate this.” Bones clenches and unclenches his fists to stave off the urge to pace. He tears down one of the paper hearts from the ceiling and crumples it instead. 

“Yes, you’ve told me. Repeatedly.” Jim sighs and leans forward, balancing his chin in his hands. “Honestly, Bones, I don’t bite. This isn’t much different than the Academy.”

“Uh-uh. We had bunks in the Academy.” 

“Bunks that we rarely slept apart in, usually. What’s up with you?” Jim drifts over, pretty eyes sloped with concern. The full brunt of the hotel’s fancy pine soap hits Bones. 

“Nothing.” Bones keeps his gaze on the floor. 

“If you hate sharing that much, I’ll try and swing a separate room for you. We can pretend we had a fight or something. I’m sorry.” Jim squeezes his bicep. Bones’s mouth sours at the apology. Jim isn’t apologizing for the room, he’s apologizing for his presence. Bones knows that tone of his and he despises it. 

“It’s fine. I’m just…not the best for these kinds of things.” Bones pinches the bridge of his nose. Guilt swirls and claws at the base of his stomach, making swipes at his throat to try and close it. 

“It’s just for a few days. You’ll never have to do another espionage mission again, scout’s honor.” Jim fumbles his way through the boy scout salute. 

“You were never a scout.” Bones huffs, but the promise soothes him some.

“Semantics.” Jim tries to crack his back a few times. “Want a drink?”

“Your back.” Bones furrows his brow. Jim makes a dismissive noise, scoping out the selection of whiskey and gin on the bar.

“Lay down.” Bones shoves Jim onto the bed with a eyeroll he doesn’t bother to hide. Jim squeaks as he hits the mattress and bounces higher than he expects—gravity’s just a little weird here and Bones can’t figure out how to work the in-room controls. 

He climbs up after Jim and settles heavily on his thighs. Jim grunts a little and Bones affectionately swats the back of his head. 

“M’fine. Really. I’ll go to the spa or something.” Jim hides his face, suspiciously shy, but Bones doesn’t press. Jim talks when he wants to.

“I’m not letting you waste money on that frilly shit. You want a free massage or not?” Bones gives his arms a fond squeeze. Jim nods, then deflates. 

“Where?” Bones reaches for the massage oil. He makes a face at the gaudy and suggestive label before pouring some into his hands. He rubs his palms together to warm it, breathing in the notes of lavender, sandalwood, and something else he can’t quite place. 

Jim makes a noncommittal noise into the mattress. Bones chuckles and smooths his hands up Jim’s back.

Massage therapy had been an optional Academy course but it had always been one that Bones enjoyed. It took a certain amount of trust in a stranger to allow them to know your body in that way. Bones wanted to be that stranger for people, he still does. 

And with Jim, well—what isn’t better with him? That’s comically, cosmically, the problem. Bones knows nearly every atom of Jim’s being, even the ones Jim hides from himself. That’s their deal. They are bonded halves, binary stars, and they care for one another. Even when they drive each other insane. 

“Pressure okay?” Bones hums, working into a stubborn knot near Jim’s shoulder. Jim moans and dissolves into the bed. 

“Quiet down. You’ll make people think we’re really getting a use out of this room.” Bones’s face grows painfully warm as Jim makes another terribly distracting noise. It dissolves into a chuckle. Bones squirrels the entire thing away into a private corner of his brain. 

“S’rry. Feels good,” Jim mumbles, pressing his face further into the mattress. Bones chuckles and continues his work. 

“Stop squirmin’,” Bones huffs, working his way up the back of Jim’s ribs. Jim wiggles around a bit but doesn’t say anything. 

“If I’m hurting you, you gotta say somethin’.” Bones leans down and murmurs, stilling his hands. Jim makes a string of noises, attempts to shake his head into the mattress, then settles on waving his hand around dismissively. 

“Whatever you say.” Bones snorts and smooths his palms over Jim’s warm, soft skin. He finds his lower back and starts over, working his way back up, then down, and up again. The rhythm of it takes them both.

“Doin’ ok?” Bones hums, leveraging his elbow into Jim’s lower back. 

“I’m in love with you,” Jim sighs, then groans, nothing more than a puddle of captain. Bones swallows the surge of emotion in his chest and concentrates on maintaining appropriate pressure of the elbow. 

“Sorry. For the next few days, I’m a taken man.” Bones skimming his fingers slowly up Jim’s back. Jim shivers and grabs fistfuls of the blankets. He traces patterns between mottled scars and freckles, a little lost. 

Jim twitches again, muffling something high-pitched into the mattress. It does, admittedly, take a minute for Bones’s brain to catch up, but once it does…

He slides his fingers ever-so-gently up Jim’s sides, over the back of his ribs, taking great care to wiggle against the ridges of his shoulderblades. Jim jumps, turning to admonish him, but Bones is back to the charade. He works his thumbs into Jim’s shoulders, then squeezes--just above the collarbone. 

“Well h-he’s a lucky guy--holy shit--”

Jim shrieks, high-pitched and frantic, and totters off into a flustered flurry of giggles. Bones has never in his life heard him make such a sound, not even when drunk. 

“What--”

“Bones--” Jim flips over and levels a threatening finger.

“--was that?” Bones smothers his laugh in his fist, but it bursts free when Jim’s face flushes adorably pink.

“You surprised me.” Jim crosses his arms and pulls a face. Bones raises an eyebrow. 

“I surprised--c’mere.” Bones starts tickling him in earnest now, nipping fingers chasing each sensitive spot he’s come to learn over the years. Jim dissolves in his hands, giggles quickly graduating to full-on laughter. 

“B-Bohohones!” Jim shoves lightly at his shoulders as he laughs, bright and bubbly. Bones uses the opportunity to slip his hands up to Jim’s collarbone again, giving another squeeze into the muscle just above. Jim flails, his knees slamming into Bones’s back--ow--and and descends promptly into a highly-entertaining octave of desperate laughter.

“How on earth are you this ticklish and alive?” Bones muses, skittering his fingers back to Jim’s stomach for something of a break. Eventually, he just pats Jim’s stomach and swings off of him. 

“I’m never letting you forget about this. Every time you’re being annoying I hope you think of my hand right here,” Bones grins, resting his hand on the spot. He tries not to read too much into the clear giddiness on Jim’s face. 

“Oh, you bastard,” Jim gasps, eyes positively sparkling. “I’m going to get you back for that.”

Yet, Jim does nothing but flop back against the bed. The extra high bounce shakes a few stray giggles loose. 

“I’m sure you will.” Bones pats Jim’s head. Jim shakes him off, grumbling under his breath. Bones snorts, squeezes Jim’s shoulder, and trods off towards the bathroom, ignoring the indignant screech behind him.

…

Bones wakes up warm, beautifully so. Jim’s arms wind around his torso and keep him close, strong and secure. Some soft and content part of him wants to lean back into it. He’ll never get tired of waking up like this. 

Bones turns slowly so he can see Jim’s face. He looks so different asleep. Younger, maybe. 

Bones allows himself another thirty minutes of drifting sleep, letting Jim’s gentle snores guide them into the late morning. The room chimes a soft tone around ten or so, warning them of their impending loss of breakfast privileges. He has half a mind to ignore it, but he doesn’t really know what they eat on this planet. Jim can be picky as hell when he puts his mind to it, and they’re both useless when they’re hangry. 

Bones starts breaking Jim’s hold, maneuvering him gently. The sleepy whining is par for the course, but the fingers worming into his sides? That’s certainly new.

“J-Jihim.” Bones clears his throat. “Let go, ya sleepy lug.”

Jim makes a soft noise and cuddles closer, decidedly not following instructions. Bones keeps tugging, but the more he pulls, the more Jim decides to tickle. Jim finds a spot on his stomach that makes Bones choke back a squeal, shaking both of them with unreleased laughter. 

“Damn pehest. Two can play at that game.” Bones huffs. He starts poking at his ribs, still gentle, as he wiggles closer to the edge of the bed. Jim smiles and starts chuckling, his hold loosening. Bones worms his torso out of the octopus grip and starts slowly untangling their legs. He gets about halfway there before Jim grabs his leg and starts reeling him back in. 

“Jim--”

Jim smirks and opens his eyes. Oh. Oh no. 

“Gotcha!” Jim cackles, pinching at Bones’s thigh with reckless abandon. Bones screeches, his voice cracking hopelessly. Jim flops on top of him and starts tickling wherever he can reach, taking extra care to revisit his stomach. 

“Y-You absolute—“

Thump. 

Bones’s back collides with the plush carpet, along with a few throw pillows. Jim catches himself at the last minute with a yelp.

“Are you okay?” Jim laughs and peers at him over the edge of the bed. He offers a hand to help Bones up. 

“I hate you.” Bones glares up at him. His lips twitch as he tries to resist the smile that’s already consumed him. He swats Jim’s offered hand away, then smacks him with a pillow for good measure. He goes to get ready for the day--someone has to be the adult here--but Jim grabs him by the waist and pulls him back into bed. 

“I love you too.” Jim gazes down at him with an unbearably goofy smile. Bones rolls his eyes, but his face is warm, so embarrassingly warm. Bones goes to get up, Jim shoves his hands under Bones’s arms, and round two sufficiently costs them any hope of breakfast. 

[huskynotwolf]

The Standard Morning — Xisuma

This is a piece of writing from W&H. It is completely unrelated to the original story and is just some kind of side story.

I growled. Being the CEO of the Hunters is hard. Especially when your room is right next to Pearl’s.

I woke up at five to her screaming and kicking at the already-destroyed wall between our rooms. Scott huddled in a corner, with earmuffs on and his pillow over his head.

Then, knowing I could never get back to my bed properly with 5am Pearl banging at the the wall, I climb out of bed (steps on several splinters) and stagger out into the hall.

Usually, it would be empty. But today, I saw Joel and Etho outside Lizzie’s room, muttering. I ignored them and went down to mess, where I make breakfast for everyone.

Somehow, the first one to wake (besides Pearl) would be Katherine. She says she enjoys watching the sunrise so she gets up at freaking four to go out and catch the light. The mess was empty apart from Anadil chewing on a peanut butter sandwich on the beams on the ceiling, who was simultaneously trying to repair a leak in the roof.

I went to the kitchen and began the usual routine: cook everyone’s breakfast, then prepare their lunch. My whole job is to just look after them. (I like that; that’s the whole reason I applied)

I was prepping Grian’s food when Scott staggered over at the counter. “Pearl’s driving me crazy. I need a rest.” He was, as usual, sleep-deprived and annoyed. I looked up from the plate. “You can always crash Tango and Jimmy’s room.” I said. I knew that Jimmy and Scott were pretty close, so it would make sense.

“Well, the earmuffs Gem gave me worked, at least.” Scott twirled the earmuffs with his fingers. I sighed and continued. “Yours is over there,” I said, pointing to the counter. He nodded in thanks and walked off, occasionally stumbling.

Then there was a screech and Anadil fell off the roof. She crashed into the benches, crawled to safety before half of the entire roof came crashing down. Scott squeaked and ran. On top of the rubble, Joey dusted himself and shook out his parrot wings, growling and cursing. “Fwhip!” He screeched. Anadil clawed her way out of the mess and ran off.

I dropped what I was doing and ran out to see the damage and mess. “Whhyyyyy.” I stared. Then Fwhip glided down and landed proudly on the rubble. Joey shoved him and he landed on his butt. “Hey!” He yelled, trying to tackle the avian. He kicked him in the face and stormed off. “You broke the window again!” He screamed.

I sighed, set the remainders of my friends (all of ‘em) breakfast out in the counter and went off to check on everyone. According to Joey, Fwhip had dropped him on the roof by throwing him out while he was asleep. When I asked if he’d willing to change rooms, he refused.

It was noisier at seven, because everyone’s up and running. I learned that in the past two hours, they had taken down a wall of the main hall (for fun, they said), blew up a tree and shot it into someone’s (later confirmed Cub’s) room for revenge, punched a hole in one of the doors (how) and had started a debate between Impulse and Bdubs on the subject “is Bdubs as tall as a 12 year old child or a 85 year old granny”.

Yup. And that’s my standard, extremely normal morning. (Also I’m giving Fwhip a spanking. Anadil took a whole week repairing that roof)

[wellthebardsdead]

The loved & the forgotten pt6

Part 5 here

———

Vivienne: *wrapped in Kaidans cape as Taliesin carries him down the hill back to the horses, whole body aching from the ordeal he’d narrowly survived* im sorry… I’m sorry… I’m sorry…

Taliesin: *tears freezing to his face as he trudges through the snow holding the smaller elf tight* shhh don’t apologise, we’ll get you back into the city and take you to a healer alright?…

Vivienne: *just staring off into blank space, eyes glazed over as his mind struggles to process everything that’s happened* I’m sorry… I’m sorry… I’m sorry…

Taliesin: *sighs and gently covers his face with the dark fabric to keep him warm before looking back to see Kaidan throwing the spear away for the hundredth time* Kaidan give it up! It’s going to keep coming back to him!

Kaidan: *catches it as it comes flying back like a boomerang* HOW THOUGH!? *snaps it over his knee only for it to reform* WHAT EVEN IS THIS FUCKING THING?!

Taliesin: I don’t know but it’s clearly bound to him, I’m sure that Neloth fellow can tell us when we get to solstheim. *pulls himself up onto his horse and holds Vivi in his arms*

Vivienne: I don’t want to meet him anymore…

Taliesin: I?… why not love?…

Vivienne: *looks up at him with such sad hopeless eyes* I know the truth now… I know why I’m so despised… why I’m not allowed near the temple… why the daedra want me dead… except for… *feels the ring on his finger and tears up again* I don’t understand anything anymore…

Taliesin: shhh *leans down and presses his forehead to his* can I kiss you?…

Vivienne: *sniffles and shakes his head breaking into sobs again* I’m c-covered in piss.

Taliesin: …I was wondering what that smell was…

Kaidan: *suddenly climbs onto his horse, spear nowhere in sight* right, let’s get going.

Taliesin: I… Kaidan-

Kaidan: don’t ask, let’s just go.

Muatra: *stuck under a bunch of stones from boethias statue and tangled up in the sticky webs of the cocoon Mephala had created to protect Vivienne. Rattling violently as it tries to escape and return to its masters hand, following the enchantment Vivec placed on it long ago*

*A few hours later*

Vivienne: *laying on a bed in the white phial, now clean and warmly dressed, letting out soft frightened whimpers as Quintus inspects the full extent of the damage*

Kaidan: d-do you really have to look in that deep?

Quintus: *kneeling between the dunmers legs* yes though- outside of an extreme amount of bruising he thankfully has no further physical damage though- mental and emotional damage I’m afraid I can’t heal… Did he tell either of you who did this to him? Judging by the bruising on his pelvis and hip bones and the- claw marks on his torso, I’d say he’d been molested by a frost troll.

Taliesin: no he wouldn’t say, he just keeps repeating that he’s sorry and he knows the truth now… but it wasn’t a frost troll I assure you, whoever it was-

Vivienne: *staring up at the wooden ceiling* Molag Bal…

Everyone: *goes silent*

Kaidan: Molag b-WHUGH!!! *suddenly gets pinned to the wall by his cape as muatra explodes through the window and stabs into the fabric and old wood* ugh… fock…

*a few more hours later*

Vivienne: *laying in his bed in the corner club, Kaidan & Taliesin both sitting beside him, tentatively letting him know they’re there but both too scared to lay beside him just yet in case they frighten him after what he went through*

Kaidan: *gently stroking his hand, letting the dunmer feel how warm his skin is, how full of life he is* shhh, it’s just me lyrebird, don’t be scared…

Taliesin: *brushing his now clean fluffy white hair from his face* would you like anything before bed?… I can make you that tea you’d li-

Vivienne: *sniffles and sits up hugging onto both of them wanting to be held and comforted*

Taliesin: *looks to Kaidan and nods* I’ll lay by the wall and-

Kaidan: he’s in the middle and I’ll guard you both with my body.

Taliesin: I- was going to say so he’ll have room to move if he wakes up in a fright but… yes… thank you, love…

Kaidan: *presses his forehead to his and gently strokes the altmers cheek* okay climb in- *carefully moves Vivi into his arms* I’m just holding you now okay Vivi?… you know We’d never touch you without your consent…

Vivienne: *nods sadly and rests his head against his chest as Taliesin gets comfortable* I know… I’m sorry I went off on my own… I wanted to get rid of the sword- I wanted to be left alone I just-

Kaidan: shhh, you don’t need to apologise… we’re not mad… *looks up to see Taliesin waiting looking equally as tired and concerned as him* okay we’re going to lay you down now, if you’re scared you can tell us alright?…

Vivienne: *nods and curls up a little as Kaidan lays him down, feeling so pathetic and small* i should be used to this… being used like this… I’ve been touched like that hundreds of times why-… why am I so afraid now?…

Taliesin: *tucks the blanket up over him and let’s him see where he’s resting his hands* I’d be surprised if you weren’t frightened after that ordeal…

Kaidan: He’s called the prince of rape for a reason, love… *lays down beside him letting him see every movement he makes, both him and Taliesin utterly terrified any wrong movements could trigger a panic reaction*

Vivienne: he said… I’m his spouse?… his bride he called me… Vivec- me?… I?… married him a long time ago and when the nerevarine destroyed the heart of lorkhan Vivec- slept with him and… gave birth to me as- his new life…

Taliesin: you gave birth… to yourself. I… given everything I’ve read about vivec that honestly makes a lot of sense but… this still isn’t good…

Kaidan: you’re telling me… he’s married you without your consent-*spots the ring on Vivienne’s finger* is that-

Vivienne: *holds up his hand looking at the ring* …no, it’s not a wedding band it… was the ebony blade I think but… Mephala- when she saved me she… said this ring would keep me hidden but I don’t understand how…

Taliesin: maybe it’s ench- *eyes going wide watching as vivienne clenches his hand and suddenly disappears entirely* LOVE?!

Kaidan: VIVI?! *feels the bed in a panic and earns a surprised giggle as he unintentionally pokes his armpit*

Vivienne: *opens his hand and snickers a little at their responses* oh it turns me invisible!

Kaidan: *sighs and smiles with relief, just so happy to make him laugh after the horror he’d endured* don’t scare me like that.

Taliesin: *smiles and holds his hand close to his dunmer lovers* can I hold and kiss you goodnight dear?…

Kaidan: me too love?…

Vivienne: *smiles sadly, feeling loved that they care enough to ask but feeling terrible that they feel like they have to* you don’t have to ask me- I’ll always say yes- *blushes as Taliesin takes his hand in his and kisses his forehead while Kaidan just hugs him close*

Taliesin: We want to be sure we won’t scare you…

Kaidan: You went through something traumatising love… we don’t want to slip up and make you relive it.

Vivienne: *looks up at them before rubbing his eyes as tears begin to form* o-oh- s-stop making m-me cry- *sniffles* I’ve cried enough today I… j-just hold me…

Taliesin & Kaidan: *both smile at each other then at him before embracing one another and their dunmer lover*

Taliesin: …Kaidan where’d you put the spear?

Kaidan: … I left it at the phi- *jumps as it suddenly smashes through the window stabbing into the wall above the bed* …

Taliesin: …

Vivienne: …can one of you move it please id rather not be laying under it again.

[outpost51]

Find The Word Tag

tagged over here by @writernopal (tysm!!!!!)

my words: falter, leap, faith, leaf, sky

tagging: @uraniumwriting, @sam-glade, @sparatus, @fenrir-kin, @comeoniwantacoolname

your words: pitch, aid, brother, relief, ceiling

falter

from Blinding Neon, Shades of Grey, Chapter 6: Catch

Bonnie’s grin does falter at that; his ears droop with a quiet whirr. “What made you look into your dad?”

leap

from Between a Rock and a Hard Place, Chapter 17: How to Mistakenly Assume You Have Everything Under Control

Yeah, not likely. I narrowly dodged an undulating blue wave that caught an unsuspecting vorcha in Stasis. “I’ll go home when I’m ready!” I shouted, rolling behind a trash bin Citrio Lifted like it was fucking nothing. I swung myself around the corner into the alley and quickly climbed up the closest building’s maintenance ladder. It had been a while since I hopped my way around rooftops, but after stumbling twice, I fell back into the rhythm: vault the artigrav generator, slide to the other end, grab the edge, hang down, kick off the wall, grab the next ladder, climb, vault over the edge, roll to the other side — step by step, leap by leap, I carefully calculated my jumps, dodging the flashes of blue cast up at me from the ground. I knew he wouldn’t follow me up there, former street kid or not. His talons were too nice. Torch probably would have followed me, though, and suddenly I was even more grateful she’d given up when she did.

faith

from Stellar Parallax, Chapter 5: A Matter of Pride

Valern and Tevos shared a look, then she spoke up. “If humans are to join with Council space, regardless of where we draw the border, their territory will be touching the Terminus, and the wholesale slaughter of a colony is… a rather slippery slope. What’s to stop them from escalating if we don’t show these attackers that the humans are under our protection? What faith would the volus, the elcor, and the hanar have in us then? We can spare an agent or two to help them in the wake of this tragedy.” She nodded to herself. “At the very least, the presence of Spectres will be a sufficient deterrent.”

leaf

from Between a Rock and a Hard Place, Chapter 19: This is Everything I Never Wanted

Pudge came thundering into the clearing with more gusto than I thought such a round beast was capable of — his claws gouged deep furrows in the soft earth beneath the leaf litter as he also realized he was going far too fast and tried to throw on the brakes. He, too, hit a tree trunk with a harsh crack, but shook it off just as quickly. Leaves were still raining down from the canopy as another creature emerged from the shadows. It was then I remembered there was a second shatha, as if one notorious killer in the household wasn’t enough. This one was far slinkier than Pudge, sleek and skinny and crawling low to the ground.

sky

from Between a Rock and a Hard Place, Chapter 20: Dissent/Descent

“Dumbass,” she chuffed and finally looked away, watching the clouds roll across the sky. “Snuck out of the barracks every night just in case you showed up.” “Why?” “Because I like you, dipshit, why else?”